


Substitute

by firstdoctor



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Depression, F/F, Self-Harm, Suicidal Ideation, content warning, deep dive into Lin's mind post-zaofu, healing-centric, non-gory but what I'd call "emotionally graphic", romance is second priority
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29807331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdoctor/pseuds/firstdoctor
Summary: Set near the end of Book 3, a take on how Lin handles the compounding stress of not only her job, but her lifelong view of herself and her role amongst others.
Relationships: Lin Beifong & Kya II, Lin Beifong/Kya II
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	Substitute

**Author's Note:**

> CONTENT WARNING for self harm and suicidal ideation. Please do not read if it could be potentially triggering.

It hadn't begun as a self-punishing habit. She never saw it as such, either, but thinking it harmless did nothing to lessen the tender welts on her wrist.

Someone had mentioned it a decade ago; they wore a rubber band beside their watch and snapped it against their skin whenever a distraction arose, bringing their attention back to the matter at hand. A sound idea, Lin had decided, taking it up herself. She, like all of Republic City, was left a bit scatterbrained in the wake of the Avatar's death.

The sharp sting served as a jumpstart whenever she began losing focus. Her sleep cycle had slipped from the bare minimum to a deficit, but it was a menial sacrifice when the station needed the manpower.

She pulled at it a couple times a day, if that, using it like a cold bucket of water. It did wonders curbing mental exhaustion, and she found she could squeeze in an extra shift.

The large problem began only a year prior when she started plucking it mindlessly, grown accustomed to the sensation. The prick of pain each time still accomplished the task of keeping her focused, but she wanted more feedback, and she switched to a thicker band.

The intent morphed into the need to be punished for all those she'd failed.

She couldn't say definitively that losing her bending was the most traumatic event of her life. Every hardship was difficult in its own way, and couldn't fairly be compared. But Amon was the catalyst in her unraveling.

She quit her life's pursuit, the police force, and weighed the worth of her existence. Her character was built around protecting, preventing, avenging. Without that, where did she stand? Few people liked her at all, and fewer she herself shared sentiment for. A seed of doubt planted long ago; if she couldn't keep her sister safe or make her mother proud, the two that mattered most, surely she was destined to fail everywhere else. It was a waste of both their time pretending otherwise.

The restoration of her bending didn't absolve any self-loathe or regret. If anything, she felt increasingly useless. Unworthy of being an earthbender, let alone the finest metalbender second to her mother. Genetics gifted her such ability, not her own merit. She learned the different ways non-benders went about jobs of construction or medicine, the technology they developed to level the field. She'd witnessed first hand the fighting prowess of Kyoshi Warriors and chi-blockers. The Sato girl made far more of an impact in two years helping the Avatar than she ever did after decades policing Republic City.

The absence of logical thought fueled her downward spiral. She'd finished her first week back on the job but the pride she once felt was gone. Saikhan was ill-prepared to take on her duties, causing a spike in non-bender oppression and rebellion. Lin had been praised endlessly upon her return but she felt disconnected from any kind words.

She sat in her office, the station now only containing the barebones night shift crew. Earlier she obsessively reviewed the reports from recent altercations, though the papers were long forgotten.

She tossed her reading glasses onto the desk and rubbed a hand over her eyes, dry and sore from strain. Sleep hadn't come easy ever since the emergence of Amon. It worsened after her capture and hadn't recovered; on her best nights she caught five hours, whittling to one sleep cycle when unease churned her gut and his face was burned into her eyelids.

Her eyes flickered, body on the verge of shutting down. She pushed away from her desk and ambled to the long couch, falling onto it with a sigh. Her armour slid from her back moments before she was horizontal, hitting the ground in a messy clatter. She didn't partake in her usual diligence, using just enough fortitude to remove it and toss it away. If it dented, so what, it wasn't a problem for her in the moment.

The light was still on; she raised a hand from her stomach and gestured, deactivating the switch.

It plunged the dim room into a near-void of swirling black. Lin was flat on her back, eyes trained on the ceiling despite their insistence to shutter.

She ran her thumb over her left wrist, feeling the wide rubber band that always adorned it.

She slipped a digit beneath the elastic, pulling back and allowing it to slip from her grasp.

A small noise escaped between Lin's teeth in time with the solid _snap_. It hurt more when she went slowly, fully processing each impact, than if she repeated in a short succession.

She plucked it again and again, relishing in the flush of her skin. In particularly nasty moods she took her nails to her thighs, creating another sensation to distract from the phantom press of Amon's thumb. The hollow feeling in her bones, between her ribs, the disconnect from the world entirely. She'd never scratched deep enough to bleed, but there were faint tracks a touch darker where the skin still scarred.

Lin paused to feel the scorching heat of broken blood vessels, imagining the blossom of pink that must be spreading.

She lessened the pace of the strikes, feeling each hit like a kick to the chest. Her eyelids were heavy, finally falling shut and causing the collecting tears to fall. She continued mindlessly, unsure of the time that had passed nor the amount of snaps of the band. She'd suffered far worse injuries, but the abuse of such tender flesh made her eyes water.

Dozens of repetitions made the soft skin raw, the outermost layer worn away by friction.

She stopped when she couldn't bear the pain any longer; the slaps turned into a bone-deep agony and a minute movement or wisp of air made it burn.

She opened her eyes, mind falling into a rut that accompanied her exhaustion, as of late.

_Bolin and Opal could have my house. A gift to Mako, as well._

It was something she'd considered too many times. She reasoned, given her dangerous occupation, having a will wasn't too morbid. Thinking of it as often as she did, however, was an issue.

 _My savings would be a boon to Air Temple Island. If Tenzin's too_ Tenzin _to take it, Saikhan could update the station's Satomobile fleet. Hell, it'd be enough to fund a second station_ and _its payroll._

_Huan would get my sable paintbrushes. The watercolour palettes. He could pick through my collection, given he's the only one with a modicum of appreciation for art. Donate what he doesn't want back to the museum._

_I can't imagine the twins wanting anything. Nor Su. My disappearance would likely be enough._

She paused, not thinking it to be necessarily true. She didn't dwell on it, however. Only during this time of weariness did she allow herself to reflect upon her doubts. She needed to break herself down in order to pick apart the faults in her assessment.

 _I don't have much jewelry, but Katara should get my jadeite pendant._ A mock betrothal necklace Aang had made for her as a girl, when he told her he'd never been able to gift one to Katara. Kya and Izumi received ones of lapis lazuli and carnelian.

 _I suppose Zuko might be interested in my personal paintings._ He'd been the most motivational as she improved her skills, and usually was her favourite confidant. His lessons brought out a great deal of emotion that Lin expressed in her art.

 _Izumi... It's been a while since I've really spoken to her._ The Fire Nation had remained the most stable amidst the Equalist movement, but they had a fair share of insurrection. Even before then, both women were perpetually busy, being the figureheads of two massive organizations. Lin would arrange for her to receive peonies every summer solstice. Izumi was always excited to gather them when she visited, as they weren't native to the Fire Nation.

 _I'd want Bumi to have my Pai Sho set._ Playing with him and Aang had been a wonderful part of her childhood. When she was a young adult she decided to make her own pieces, hand carving zebra and picture jasper. It wasn't traditional to have stone tiles, but she preferred the feel of it to lightweight wood. Plus, it was a nice party trick to take her turn from across the room.

 _And for Kya, my tea cups. One collection belonged to great uncle Iroh. She always loved hearing about him._ Lin stopped, swiping her tears with the back of her hand. She had to end the list with Kya, because she could never continue afterwards.

Everyone else would understand, in time, if she succumbed to her thoughts. Not to say she believed it wouldn't be devastating to those around her, but Lin knew how heavily it would weigh upon Kya. The waterbender had spent much of her life helping others, as Lin did. The memorial of those lost lengthened each year; those she couldn't save, and those no one could have. While in their youth Lin preferred Tenzin and Izumi, she and Kya had found a passive companionship in the recent years, both understanding that burden.

Kya would take it as a personal failing, no matter Lin's assurances. That thought was one that kept her afloat in the most dire moments, however arbitrary. Lin didn't want to cause anyone pain. If her death brought immense grief to even one person, she couldn't find it within herself to purposefully seek it out.

(Tenzin, she knew, would also struggle. She was aware he still carried guilt over their parting, which only worsened after she lost her bending. And Katara, a surrogate mother far warmer than hers of blood, didn't deserve to lose her husband _and_ daughter. Those two were far messier than what she had with Kya, though, and she pushed those thoughts aside.)

Lin pulled the band back one last time, and an audible cry left her throat. Her arm throbbed and her skin burned. She squeezed her eyes shut, a fresh set of tears staining her cheeks.

Her breaths were erratic as she tried to soothe the pain. It took a minute for the flare to ease again.

The hot flame in her wrist soothed the cavity in her chest. Self harm was taboo, especially within the Earth Kingdom, and Lin had been shocked at the thought of maiming herself. In the absence of blood it was easier to stomach, and such need only arose when paranoia and nightmares kept her awake.

She'd been working for ten hours, plus two off-the-clock. Fully drained from her emotional rumination, she succumbed to sleep shortly after, hugging her injured arm to her chest. 

**Author's Note:**

> Based on my experience struggling with depression and anxiety. It's always most vicious at night, and can feel inescapable. Come morning I can rationalize the thoughts I had earlier and break down their fallacies.
> 
> Trying to polish (or complete) things I've been sitting on for months, even years.


End file.
